Rescue at Waverly

by T J Mott

  Reynolds nodded. She had indeed matured.

  “I sneaked out on a mission once. When I was sixteen. They had a squadron of gunships, and I spent so much time in the simulators I thought I was ready to pilot one. So I messed with the food before the mission, gave one of the pilots food poisoning. He was too sick to fly. I slipped aboard the ship and flew the mission in his place.”

  The redness had mostly drained from her face and her complexion was approaching normal again. But her eyes were red, and wet. She rubbed at the corners of her eyes, trying to dry them out before any tears could fall.

  The ship clunked again as it returned to hyperspace. “So how did the mission go?” he asked.

  “It was boring. Just an escort mission. We were hired to escort a convoy, and nothing interesting happened at all. The crew of my gunship played card games on the bridge the entire time. We got them to their destination and then returned home. But my brother flipped. He put me on lockdown. I couldn’t go anywhere or do anything without him knowing or stopping me. And I couldn’t understand why. After seeing a mission firsthand, I couldn’t understand what he was trying to protect me from.”

  And now Reynolds felt he was finally beginning to understand her. Her formative years were spent trying to fit in, trying to prove herself to her adoptive mercenary family, seeking acceptance and approval, but feeling held back by the authority in her life the whole time. And so she had only fought back harder, working to become the best of the best in hopes of making it in the Hyberian Raiders.

  And that fighting spirit, the desire to prove she was the best, still existed, and was still a powerful, controlling trait for her.

  So was her resentment of authority. Because authority, she must think, had always ignored her skill and held her back.

  “A couple years later, he let me fly some non-combat missions. Transporting supplies and such. I actually learned how giant stars could interfere with hyperspace on one of those missions. It was a Hyberian secret, but my copilot was forced to reveal it so we could get away from some prying system police and not expose a supplier.” Her fists were balled again and her voice raised to a near shout. “Dammit, Captain, I know it would have worked! We were so close to escaping!” Her face flushed with anger again.

  He nodded. He believed her, and shared her frustration. After all, it was his command that had been destroyed, by no fault of his own as far as he could understand. He’d already mentally analyzed the mission over and over again, cataloging the warning signs, the crew’s behavior and morale, Marcell’s attitudes, and trying to identify what went wrong and what might have changed the outcome. Some day he might make enough sense of it to include it in the tactics manual he was writing.

  And maybe he could also glean enough details from Poulsen to include sections on the Hyberian Raiders, if she was willing.

  “What about the Sapphire Cluster?” he asked, bracing himself for some kind of outburst.

  But the outburst didn’t come. Instead, a single tear finally released from her right eye, drawing out a faint wet streak as it gently rolled down her cheek. “I had just turned twenty. My brother was finally going to allow me to fly some real missions. Just easy, safe ones at first, but he said there was a huge contract they needed to do before he’d have the time to get me set up.”

  “Against the Thorel Republic,” Reynolds guessed aloud.

  Poulsen nodded solemnly. “Almost the entire group went. There were maybe twenty of us left at home. The few guys who were completely non-combat, the skeleton crew needed to hold down the station while everyone was away. You know, the accountant, the janitor, the supplies guys, a cook. Some crew family members. And me.”

  She didn’t tell the rest of that story. Nor did she need to, it was already well-known in popular culture. The Sapphire Cluster was a tight star cluster of large blue-colored O-type stars, at the time unified under a small independent government. They had hired the Hyberian Raiders to help defend against an incursion from the nearby Thorel Republic. And Thorel had wiped out the entire mercenary force with a very expensive, but well-placed antimatter bomb, and soon afterwards took complete control of the cluster.

  “And just like that, the Hyberian Raiders were no more. Once again, everything I knew was taken from me. And everything I wanted to be was gone.”

  She leaned forward and sat with her face in her hands and her elbows resting on her knees. “Ever since then, before coming to Blue Fleet, I was angry and alone, taking small jobs and moving from ship-to-ship. But I just didn’t have the temperament to make it. I hated everyone and everything. I’d last a few weeks here, a few months there, and then find myself living on dumpster trash in some backwater refueling station for a while before finding another gig. And that continued, until you finally brought me to Blue Fleet.”

  The transport dropped out of hyperspace again, and the intercom chimed. “Welcome to the Jio System. We’ll be docking at Trinx Orbital shortly. Once we’re docked you may disembark.” The channel closed.

  Reynolds eyed the former pilot of the Caracal. She looked completely drained of energy now. She had just talked about things she had probably never spoken of before, and he knew that could feel exhausting and relieving at the same time.

  He glanced out the window and saw the rapidly-approaching space station. They got closer and the detail resolved, and soon he could see the ten or so starships docked via the external docking tubes.

  One of the smaller starships was a familiar design. He squinted, and as they got closer he noticed its heavy battle damage. Its hull was scorched and cratered in places and several radiator panels were shredded, dangling out from the hull like strips of confetti. Some armor plating had been removed, leaving interior systems exposed to space, including the hyperdrive and reactor. And a bundle of makeshift conduits appeared to be haphazardly running between the exposed sections, bypassing sections of the hyperdrive and running straight into the main reactor.

  The damaged ship grew larger in his vision as the transport approached Trinx Orbital, and soon he could read the serial number stenciled near its bow. He stood abruptly. “Lieutenant! Get your things together. The Panther is here!”

  Chapter 21

  “You want to put two platoons in that?!”

  Commodore Cooper grinned in response and looked up into the open hangar of the ship temporarily dubbed the X-11. The experimental starship, which had recently cleared four-point-four light-years per hour during its trials by Gray Fleet personnel, was again parked in the center of Hangar 7. A crude ramp quickly fashioned from some spare aluminum plating and tubing provided a path from the deck up into the starship’s own little hangar.

  Until recently, Hangar 7 had been cordoned off and very few people knew what it contained or had access to it. But now, it was extraordinarily busy. Dozens of techs hauled in stacks of equipment from the Headquarters warehouses, while dozens more inspected and organized it all and eventually loaded and installed it into the X-11. The ship’s small hangar was now very cramped, and becoming more so by the minute. Inside, Gray Fleet’s men worked quickly to secure arrays of three-high bunks to the deck. On the far wall, they haphazardly plumbed up temporary ventilation ducts which connected to a large cluster of aftermarket atmosphere processing units strapped down in the corner. Crates and crates of supplies, stacked nearly to the ceiling, covered the aft wall.

  “You know, Coop,” Colonel Halle said, “my staff is starting to think you’ve been toying with us. That you don’t take the Marines seriously enough, and that you’re abusing your rank for your own sick amusement.”

  Cooper smiled and held up his hands in mock defense. “Okay, that was mostly true when I had you move Cov’s ship out of here.” He dropped both his smile and his hands. “But this time, I’m completely serious.”

  “Commodore Cooper being serious. Now that’s hard to believe,” Halle quipped. He pointed a finger into the hangar. “What’s all that equipment in there?”

  “Most of it is supplemental life
support,” Cooper explained. “This ship wasn’t designed to carry a hundred men. The hangar is the only section of open space in there, so we’re equipping it as a barracks and installing all the necessary CO2 scrubbers, humidity and temperature controls, extra waste storage, and other basic necessities.”

  Halle still looked skeptical. “And the auction is in Cadria Minor?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “In ten days?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  The Marine commander scoffed in disbelief, which Cooper of course found amusing. “Cadria Minor is almost nine hundred light-years away. I’m no starship jockey, but even I know that’s well over a month’s travel!”

  Cooper grinned. “This ship brings us a new definition of ‘fast’,” he said. “It’ll do it.” He killed his grin. “And this is the only chance I see for recovering Marcell. I’ve shielded Marcell from most of Saar’s public threats, but Saar is a true madman these days. I assume he will be at the auction, and if he wins…” He shuddered, then watched as Commodore Wilcox appeared from within the ship and descended the ramp with loud footfalls.

  “This is going to be a terribly cramped journey,” Wilcox indignantly told them as he stepped off the ramp.

  “Three weeks max, round-trip,” Cooper said.

  “Yes, so you’ve said. I still can’t believe you talked me into this. My uniform closet aboard the Marauder is as big as this entire ship!”

  “Well at least you have your own cabin here. Think of the Marines who will be living in the hangar.”

  Wilcox shot a face at Halle. “I’m trying not to. I’d still prefer to have my own men for this.” Wilcox openly resented the Marines. They were the most military-mannered group in Marcell’s organization, by far, and Wilcox’s pirate background meant he hated military. Yellow Fleet even had their own infantry force rather than rely on the Marines when a contract called for ground troops.

  Before Halle could respond to the slight, Cooper’s comm chimed. He pulled it from a pocket to answer. “Coop here.”

  “Hey, it’s Pichler. Are you with Wilcox by any chance or do I need to link him in?”

  “Yes, I’m here.”

  “Good. Listen, the funds transfers are completed. You’ve got three hundred million credits and I’m transferring the account information to the X-11’s computers now.”

  “Marcell’s been sitting on three hundred million credits?” Wilcox exclaimed nearly sing-song like. “Why the hell did he turn down my request for a new destroyer? I’ll have to give him a piece of my mind. Doesn’t he remember that the Reckless Marauder is my own personal starship that I’ve been using in his employ for years now?”

  Cooper shook his head in annoyance, and Pichler continued. “Actually, we discovered over two billion in assets, but most of it is tied up in stocks and accounts owned under Marcell’s aliases and won’t be easy to retrieve quickly. We started with the easy accounts that hopefully won’t raise too many flags.”

  “Moving that much cash is very dangerous,” Cooper remarked. “Marcell has done a ton of work to hide the links between his other firms and the Organization. This could expose them.”

  “Agreed, which is why we tried to limit where it came from and only gathered three hundred. As it stands, both Universal Shippers and Longhorn Interstellar Parcel Service are now in danger. Someone will eventually notice sudden transfers of that size and it won’t be hard to piece together the truth if it’s spent all at once at Cadria.”

  Cooper winced at the mention of the companies. Marcell maintained an extensive network of aliases under which he owned many legitimate businesses, the profits of which he used to keep the Organization funded. The general concept was well-known among the higher ranks, but specific details were only cleared for a very few select officers, the list of which did not include Colonel Halle. The fewer people who knew such details, the smaller the chances of outsiders discovering those secret links to other companies.

  At least the two Pichler mentioned were fairly minor players, smaller firms least likely to impact the Organization if they were shut down. He glared sternly at Halle. “Colonel, that information does not leave this conversation.”

  Halle nodded. “Understood, Commodore.”

  “Wilcox, this is all at your discretion. If you can win the auction and get away with Marcell inconspicuously, by all means do so. We’ll deal with the financial fallout later.” Now the hangar workers were carrying crates full of carbines, grenades, and ammunition up the ramp. “But if that’s not possible, do whatever you need to. That’s why you have a hundred Marines. I’d love to send more, but there just isn’t enough room aboard.”

  Strangely, Wilcox had no reply. He simply nodded. The notorious pirate-turned-mercenary normally cast a selfish, devil-may-care attitude, but Marcell’s capture must have actually had an effect on him.

  ***

  The door opened, and Thaddeus charged.

  And then he was crumpled on the deck, trying to writhe in pain although his stunned body would not obey him. Once again, they’d hit him with an electroshock weapon before he could reach the door.

  “I’m beginning to wonder, my dear Marcell,” said the voice over the brig’s intercom, “if you don’t actually enjoy pain. You certainly don’t give up on any opportunity to bring more down on yourself.”

  He felt a little control returning to his muscles, and he shakily pushed himself up to his knees. Two tall, stocky, well-muscled men stood above him, wearing expressions that suggested they’d savor any move he made against them. “Well, if you think I enjoy pain then maybe you should quit indulging me.”

  The voice laughed. “You have a very strange sense of humor, Marcell. I’m going to miss having you aboard my ship.”

  He looked up at the men. This time was different. He’d made a habit of charging the door whenever his handlers brought him food, hoping one time he’d slip through. He didn’t expect to get far, but he had nothing better to do, and he knew he’d have no future if he didn’t somehow get away. And every time he’d charged, he’d get hit by a stun baton, and by the time he’d recover whoever had entered was gone. But this time they remained in the cell.

  The two men smiled sadistically at him. “What are you two looking at?” Thaddeus taunted.

  But neither of them replied. “Those two don’t talk much,” the intercom said. “But they are very good at, oh, how shall I say it? Enforcing prisoner compliance.” The voice laughed again.

  He didn’t even see it happen. His abdomen exploded into pain and his lungs emptied in a quick oof. He doubled over and collapsed to the deck, fighting for breath and finding none. The next blow connected with a kidney and he curled up.

  “This is disappointing, Marcell, and not nearly as entertaining as I hoped. I expected you to fight back harder. Are you actually giving up already?”

  He winced, and struggled to breathe, unable to reply. Each of those men is twice my size. What the hell did you expect to happen?

  One of them grabbed him by the armpits and hauled him to his feet. He tried to struggle, but just couldn’t. He had not slept for several days, had hardly eaten anything, and had also just been hit by a stun baton and kicked in the solar plexus. His mind was still full of fight, but his body was not.

  The man held him upright, and Thaddeus finally sucked in a couple weak breaths. The other man towered in front of him, still smiling. “You’re a maverick, Marcell. You don’t play by the galaxy’s rules, and you’re a very hated man for that reason. A thorn in many sides. More than I ever imagined, in fact. I can’t believe how many responses I got when I announced that I would be auctioning you off. I’ve certainly heard of you and some of your antics, but I never realized the scope of your operations. You might actually be the most hated private individual in the galaxy!”

  The man in front of him punched, and Thaddeus felt ribs crack in his chest. He winced again, and hung limply by his armpits, still held upright by the other man.

  “I have to wonder, now. Here, at
the end, was it all worth it? Some of the stories I’ve been told now, they paint you to be quite the madman, Marcell. Here I thought you were just another small-time mercenary with a big ego, but several potential buyers have informed me that you actually think you’re from Earth? And that you’re trying to return there?” The voice laughed once again, a sound that was really starting to annoy Thaddeus. His captor really seemed to be impressed by the sound of his own voice. “What are you really after? I don’t believe you could have risen so far if you were actually that delusional, so it must be a cover for something. Or is it just that strange sense of humor again? Do you derive some sick, twisted pleasure from making your enemies believe you’re insane? Does it enrage them? After a contract, do you hail your enemies and announce, ‘I’m Thaddeus Marcell. I’m from Earth, I’m insane, and I’m still better than you!’?”

  The next blow connected with his groin. Stars formed in front of his eyes, his breath left him again, and he felt bile rise in his throat. This time the man holding him let go, and a few moments later, when the pain diminished just enough for him to regain some awareness, Thad realized he was now collapsed to the deck.

  “You’re far weaker than I expected, and watching this no longer amuses me. I have other matters to attend to. Don’t kill him, but make sure that he’s unable to cause further trouble.”

  The intercom clicked off, and Thaddeus laid curled up on the deck, unable to retreat from the seemingly endless torrent of blows which followed.

  Chapter 22

  Adelia didn’t appreciate being in captivity again, but compared to her previous captors, Captain Dontun was fairly pleasant, even charming. He treated her well and had given her the medical attention she had needed, and her wounds—the physical ones, anyway—from the Caracal’s destruction had fully healed.

  The old man even allowed her access to his digital library, where she studied fervently to learn about the galaxy’s politics and geography. Over the past several weeks, she had looked up all the names and organizations she could remember hearing since her abduction. She had also read everything she could find about Earth, which reaffirmed Thad’s claims that Earth was a long-lost planet at best and a myth at worst.